


Solitude, Interrupted

by Wordancer



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25270369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordancer/pseuds/Wordancer
Summary: Booker meets a girl at the liquor store.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/OFC, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 40
Kudos: 226





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Because Booker is too sad. Warning for depression. Also, Quynh doesn’t show up. Sorry, it got too complicated for me.

The village is quiet, deserted almost, with abandoned buildings on the main street. Booker finds a place to rest in one of them and doesn’t do much else. A day or two later, he finds work on a farm nearby, where nobody asks his name.

The first thing he does when he gets his first paycheck is go to the liquor store. He opens the bottle of whiskey on the steps in the alley out back, and sits on the back stoop to drink. He’s about halfway through the bottle when the back door to the liquor store opens, and a girl walks out. Maybe she’s not a girl, he thinks. They all look so young to him. She stops when she catches sight of him.

“Hello,” she says.

Booker nods and hopes that’s the end of it.

It isn’t. She sits down next to him. “Where are you from, then?”

Booker takes another drink. “Around.”

“Okay.” She waits for a moment. “My name’s Julie, what’s yours?”

Booker sighs. “Call me Booker.”

“That’s a funny name.” Julie opens the paper bag she has in her hand and fishes around inside. She takes out a chocolate bar. “Would you like some?”

Booker blinks, and his stomach rumbles. “No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” She opens the wrapper and breaks off a square to offer to him.

He looks at her, then the square, then back at her. She raises an eyebrow. “Thanks,” he says and takes it.

“You’re welcome.” They fall into silence, her eating her chocolate, him drinking his whiskey, for a little stretch of time, until Julie gets back to her feet. “Well, I have to get back to work. See you around.”

Booker raises his bottle in farewell, and she disappears back into the store.

He spends the night on the stoop, once he’s done with the bottle, but he makes it to work on time the next morning, so there’s a small victory.

He gets paid once a week, and the next time his paycheck comes in, he heads straight back to that same liquor store and sits on the same stoop, with the same whiskey, and the same plan for the night. His solitude is once again interrupted by Julie, bursting out into the alley with another bag in her hand.

“Booker!” She says. “You’re back.”

Booker nods. He doesn’t see what there is to celebrate about that, but more power to her to sound so happy, he supposes.

She sits next to him again. “I brought cookies today. Here.” She hands him a cookie.

“Thanks.” He forgot to have lunch that day, and his breakfast was a granola bar. He eats the cookie with gratitude. He can feel her eyes on him, so he looks evenly back at her. She shrugs and pulls out a sandwich.

“Have some of this, too,” she says, and she holds out half of her sandwich.

Booker stares, but she doesn’t retract her offer, and it seems like too much effort to protest, so he takes the sandwich. “Thanks.” It’s ham and cheese.

“Don’t mention it.” She eats her half of the sandwich, and they sit in silence. The sun is setting, and the sky is turning purple. Booker almost feels at peace.

“See you later,” Julie says after some stretch of time, and Booker nods to her as she goes back into the store.

It goes on like that, him visiting the liquor store and spending the night on the stoop, Julie taking her breaks on that same stoop, and the two of them eating whatever she has in her paper bag that day together in silence, for months. Booker finds a fragile ease with himself in those unlooked for moments, and it is sometimes the only meal he has besides the liquor that day. The routine of it all numbs him to the pain of his continued existence, and he settles into town, thinking he might stay for a few years. Then, suddenly one day, shouting interrupts the quiet in the alley behind the liquor store.

Julie jumps to her feet, but Booker remains sitting and takes another drink. “What’s that?” She walks to the end of the alley. The shouting increases in volume.

Booker sighs and gets to his feet to follow her. She waits for him to join her, and they both step out onto the sidewalk to see two very angry men yelling at each other over a fender bender. Booker stares blankly at them as they start pushing at one another, but Julie starts to walk closer. “Hey,” she says. “Stop, it’s not worth it.”

Booker knows that rarely stops anyone from violence. He follows her, a vague plan to keep her away forming in his mind, but then one of the men pulls a gun out of the waistband of his jeans, and his vision sharpens as his adrenaline spikes. He begins to run forward.

“You stay out of this!” The man with the gun yells, and he aims at the two of them.

“No,” Julie shouts as two shots ring out. One glances off one of the cars, but the other finds a home in Julie’s heart where she is standing in front of Booker, arms outstretched, and Booker is too late, he is always too late. He falls to his knees besides her, and his vision doubles. He sees the shooting taking place all over again, from Julie’s perspective, sees himself as she looks up at him, kneeling beside her. She reaches out to him, and he grasps her hand to offer what little comfort he can. Her eyes flutter closed.

“Is she dead? She’s dead!” The other man yells at the one with the gun, and they start fighting again. Booker should feel something, irritation maybe, that they are still fighting after causing the death of the girl who wanted them to stop, but he feels nothing but numb and sad, and useless. He looks down at Julie’s face, tries not to look at the gunshot wound lower down. He blinks. The gunshot wound looks different.

He blinks again. It’s healing. He looks quickly up at the arguing men, but they aren’t noticing anybody but each other. He looks down at Julie. It’s definitely healing. He picks her up and begins to run, and he doesn’t stop until they’re in the abandoned building he has taken to calling home.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker gives advice and gains a reprieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Booker, no. An abandoned building is no place to live.

Julie takes her time coming back to life. Booker waits patiently, watching the gunshot wound close back up with something like relief. He knows he shouldn’t feel it, knows he doesn’t deserve it just like she doesn’t deserve to be saddled with immortality, but it doesn’t stop him. She’s going to live. The thought repeats itself in his mind.

Julie gasps in air and curls around the gunshot wound in her chest. Booker gives her space, waits for her to come back to herself. Eventually she sits up, and he waits until she takes stock of the blood on her shirt and notices him. “What happened? Where are we?” She asks.

“You got shot. We’re in an abandoned building in town.” He watches her take in the information.

“Very funny,” she says.

“No, not funny at all, actually,” Booker says. “I’m sorry.”

Julie cocks her head and takes stock of him. “Why are you sorry?”

“It’s difficult, not dying.” He sighs and slumps back against the cold wall. Night has fallen, and the only light comes from the full moon overhead and the cheap lantern he bought at the dollar store a few weeks back. The warmth from the spring day has vanished. Julie shivers, and he feels shame at not being able to offer her better.

“You’re serious,” Julie says.

“Yes.”

“You believe what you’re saying.” Julie looks down and fingers the hole in her shirt. Blood smears onto her hand. Booker doesn’t feel sick at the sight of it, but he does feel sick at not feeling sick. “I remember it,” she whispers. “I remember getting shot.”

“That’s because it happened,” Booker says.

“I got shot.” Julie stares at her bloody hand. “I died. And then I didn’t.”

“And then you didn’t,” Booker sighs.

“How come you aren’t surprised?” She asks.

“I can’t die either,” Booker says.

“Oh.” She looks around. “Are there more of us?”

Booker’s heart clenches with pain at the thought of his team, his family. “Yes,” he grits out, and he suddenly feels exhausted. “We’ll get you cleaned up tomorrow. For now, rest.”

“Rest,” Julie repeats, looking lost. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good.” Booker takes the pile of blankets he usually sleeps in and hands them to her. “Here.” She takes them, still looking at a loss. He slides down to lie on his back and stares up at the water stained ceiling. He doesn’t close his eyes.

Julie shivers through the night. Booker can tell because he keeps watch over her, and he feels worse and worse about it as the night goes on. He resolves to find a warm place for tomorrow. He has enough money. It will do for now. Soon, he’ll have to find a better paying job. For that, he’ll need a name. A history. A purpose. The thought of it drains him of what little energy he has. Julie shifts awake in the growing morning light, and he resolves to think about it later.

She sits up and wipes the sleep from her eyes. “Good morning.” She gifts him with a faint smile. He nods to her and gets to his feet.

“We can’t stay here,” he says. He gets a snack bar from his small stash and hands it to her. “They’ll have too many questions.”

“Okay,” Julie says, and she nibbles on the bar. “I’ll say goodbye to my family, and we’ll go.”

Booker closes his eyes. How does he stop this, he wonders. How did Andy do it, with Nile? He shrinks back from remembering. “Okay,” he sighs. “Don’t tell them anything.”

Julie laughs lightly. “I’ll have to tell them something, or they’ll worry.” She looks down at herself. “They’ll worry anyway, with me wearing this shirt.”

Booker rummages through his things. He has an extra shirt for when he goes to the laundromat. He hands it to her.

“Thanks,” she says. She goes into another room to change, and Booker looks around the room. There’s not much to pack. They’ll need a bag.

“What am I going to tell them?” Julie re-enters the room. Booker’s shirt hangs off her shoulders, but he supposes it will do. She looks up at him with big eyes, and he is lost. What should she tell them? What, if anything, will work? Do the opposite of what I did, he wants to tell her, but then he would have to explain, and he doesn’t want that.

“As little as possible.” He shrugs and turns away, rummages through his things again just to be doing something.

“I’ll tell them I got a job far away. I’ll leave a note while they’re at work. That way they can’t ask questions. They’ll leave the house soon, and I’ll go then,” Julie muses.

“Okay,” Booker says.

“Will you come with me?” She asks.

He looks at her, then looks away. He wants to say no. He wants to run. He can’t. “Okay,” he says.

Julie’s family home is a charming cottage set a little way back from the road. She opens the door with a key from the flowerpot by the welcome mat, and Booker hesitates at the threshold as Julie walks in. She looks back at him and smiles quietly. “Come on, the house won’t bite.”

Booker snorts softly and follows her inside. The signs of a home are all around him, changed from when he last had a home, but still distinctive. Papers scatter over the coffee table in the living room where someone left them. A glass sits half empty on a side table. Coats hang from hooks in the wall. Shoes are sloppily piled beneath them. Booker stays where he is as Julie walks farther in. He is overwhelmed as it is.

Julie finishes writing her note soon enough, and she spends some time walking from room to room, running her hand over the backs of chairs, picking up photos and smiling sadly at them. Booker wants to hurry her along, but he says nothing. If he could, he’d linger in his own family home, too. Eventually she comes back to him, and they walk out together.

They rent a car and drive a few towns over before stopping at the first bed and breakfast they see. “This place looks nice,” Julie says as Booker stops the car. He looks up at the two story farmhouse and shrugs. It will have all the comforts she needs, he thinks, and that is all that matters.

The bed and breakfast is run by an old married couple, long since retired and looking for gossip. Julie chatters away at them excitedly about the goings on in town, and Booker cedes control of the conversation to her with gratitude. Julie insists that they split the bill, when it comes time to pay for the night, and Booker cedes that to her too, with a wry smile.

“We only have the one room, will that be all right for you?” The old lady asks inquisitively.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Julie insists, and the old lady leaves it at that, to Booker’s relief.

The room they have is cozy, with an antique dresser, lace curtains, and an old four poster bed. “I’ll take the floor,” Booker mumbles and goes to sit and do just that.

Julie looks down at him with her hands on her hips. “No, you won’t.”

Booker blinks up at her.

“There’s plenty of room in the bed,” she insists. “Come on.” She holds out her hands. “Up you get.” Booker stares, but she keeps holding out her hands. “If you think I’m letting you sleep on the floor, you’ve got another think coming,” she says stoutly.

He can see he won’t be winning this argument. “Fine,” he sighs, and he stands.

“Good.” Julie grins and her hands drop back to her sides. They go about their nighttime routines, and Julie burrows into the bed with a deep, contented sigh. Booker lies on top of the covers and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You sleep like a vampire,” Julie says, and then she giggles. “Are we vampires? Have you neglected to tell me that we need to drink blood to survive?”

Booker smiles in spite of himself and uncrosses his arms. “Goodnight, Julie,” he says pointedly, and the giggling subsides.

“Goodnight, Booker.”

Julie finds work temping at offices around town, and Booker works as a day laborer for contractors and farmers. They stay on at the bed and breakfast for a few weeks. Booker gets more comfortable sleeping next to Julie, and Julie will often pick up something to share with Booker for dinner on her way back from work, as Booker often forgets about food. He forgets about liquor, though, too, in between work and the bed and breakfast, so that’s something.

It doesn’t take long for the team to catch up to them. Andy finds him waiting for work by the side of the road one day.

“Where are the others?” He asks.

“In town,” Andy says.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to see each other,” he says.

“Plans change. Where’s the new girl?”

“In town, too.” He gets up from his seat on the fence running alongside the road. “I’ll introduce you.”

Julie is working at a call center in a boxy office building that day. Booker and Andy wait in the foyer until lunch. They don’t say much while they wait. Eventually the elevator starts bringing workers down to the main floor where Booker and Andy sit, and eventually Julie comes out of the elevator. Andy stands, and Booker follows suit more slowly. Julie notices him and comes over to greet him.

“This is Andy. She’s like us,” Booker says.

“Oh! Hello, I’m Julie!” She holds out her hand, and Andy shakes it.

“Hey,” Andy says. “I’ve got more people for you to meet, too.”

“More? Wow. How many?” Julie asks.

“Haven’t been talking about us much, huh, Book?” Andy raises an eyebrow at Booker, who shrugs. “Three more,” she tells Julie.

“Cool,” Julie breathes.

Nile, Joe, and Nicky are all pleased to meet Julie, and Julie is predictably friendly with them. It all goes well, until the topic of what to do next comes up.

“You’ll come with us,” Andy says. “We’ll train you in combat, and you can join the team.”

“Okay,” Julie says. “I’m not much of a fighter, but I’ll do my best.”

“You may surprise yourself,” Andy says. “All right, let’s head out. See ya, Booker.”

Booker nods, and the team begins to walk away. Julie looks back at him. “Why aren’t you coming?”

“I’m not allowed,” Booker says.

“Booker betrayed us,” Joe bites out, still angry. “We aren’t talking to him for the next century as punishment. Too lenient, I’d say, but I was overruled.”

Julie stops walking. “I’m not going without Booker.”

“You don’t understand what he’s done,” Andy says.

“He sold us out to a pharmaceutical company to be their lab rats,” Joe says. “We were tortured because of him.”

Julie blinks then looks at Booker, who stares at his feet. “I’m still not going without him.”

Nile looks to Andy. “Things have changed, haven’t they? We may need everybody to train her.”

Andy tilts her head to the side and considers Booker, then looks at Joe. Joe shakes his head. “Joe,” Nicky says. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to him?”

Joe watches Booker with narrowed eyes. Booker looks away. “Fine.” Joe stomps off in the direction of the van the team came in. “I guess I’m overruled again.”

“Well, you heard the man,” Andy says to Booker. “Let’s go.”

Booker trails behind them, disbelieving. Julie looks back and gives him an encouraging smile. His lips twitch in return, and a small kernel of hope burns in his chest.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has a new job. It goes just about as well as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to your better half, Joe.

Julie takes well to the team, and Booker is relieved to share responsibility for her with the group. For one thing, there is always food, so Julie doesn’t have to always buy it. Nile starts training with Julie while they wait for their next assignment. Julie doesn’t take well to learning how to fight, but Nile is patient. Booker often sits outside of wherever they are staying that week to avoid Joe’s glares, and Julie will often join him after her training sessions.

“I’m not getting better,” Julie says after one such session. They’re watching the sun set, and Julie is nursing a bruised elbow from when Nile threw her a little too hard.

“You will,” Booker says. He tries to remember when he was in training. It was a long time ago. He had been so proud to provide for his family. And then look what happened.

“How do you know?” Julie asks.

“You have all the time in the world, and you want to learn. That is enough,” Booker says. He tries for a reassuring smile, and he must succeed, because Julie smiles back at him.

Copley gives them their next assignment a few days after that. Children again, this time for real, kidnapped in Nigeria. They decide to keep Julie with Copley for this one and fly out to Nigeria. When they get there, Joe hands Booker a gun from the crate where they kept them and gives him a long look. “Try not to shoot Andy, this time.”

Booker nods. “I won’t.”

“Hmph.” Joe goes to join Nicky, who welcomes him with a smile, and Booker checks his ammo by reflex.

The children are all kept in a central building on a private army’s compound. Child soldiers in training, Copley told them. They go in to the fight guns blazing, but the army has tranquilizer guns from dealing with children. Once it comes out that they don’t die, the tranquilizers get used.

Booker wakes to Joe saying, “Nicky, are you all right? Nicky?”

After a few minutes, Nicky responds. “I’m fine. Andy?”

“Present,” Andy mumbles as she tests her bonds.

“They tied us up real good,” Nile says. “Took away our communicators, too.”

“So talking with Copley is out,” Andy says.

They fall silent. There’s not much more to say. Booker wonders what the soldiers plan to do with them. Torture, he supposes, to find out why they were sent.

A door opens, and light falls in upon them. Two men come into the room. They get right down to business. “Why did you come here?” One asks. Nobody answers. They pick Andy to hurt first, and Booker strains against his bonds, trying to think of a way to divert their attention to him.

“She doesn’t know anything,” he says. “But I do.”

“So do I.” Nile says. “We came here because you are horrible human beings, and those kids don’t deserve to be forced into your life. And we’ll stop you, too, no matter what.”

“Americans,” one of the men says.

“Not quite,” says Joe. “Points for effort, though.”

“How many points?” Nicky asks.

“I haven’t decided,” Joe says.

“Quiet!” One of the men says and backhands Joe. Nicky fights against his bonds, but it does no good.

The interrogation goes on like that for some time, but nobody is in a sharing mood. At least the interrogators’ attention has been successfully shifted away from Andy. The two men leave again, and Booker watches them go with resignation. How much longer will they be tied up? How much longer until one of their captors makes a mistake, and they can get free? It could take many days. Weeks. Months. He is tired of surviving everything. What will these soldiers throw at them, once they notice they can heal?

Night falls, and Booker doesn’t bother trying to rest. He is too uncomfortable and not tired enough. Instead he contemplates the wall and finds himself missing Julie’s company. If the mission had been successful, they would probably be sitting outside of their latest safe house, maybe with dinner, maybe talking, maybe not. He is glad she is not there with them, though.

His gladness is short-lived, because the door creaks open to reveal Julie and Copley sneaking in. “Who said you could come and rescue us?” Andy snarls as Copley unties her.

“Hey, Booker!” Julie says cheerfully as she unties him. Once he gets one hand free he takes over, and she goes to help Nicky.

“Yes, how dare you save our asses?” Nicky says with a grin at Julie, who grins back. He and Joe get free around the same time, and they go toward each other to check each other over for injuries, though they will long have been healed by now.

Once they are all freed, they begin their walk out of the building. The children still need to be freed. “Follow me,” Booker tells Julie. “Don’t worry.”

“I won’t,” Julie says, holding up her gun. “I just point and shoot, right?”

“There’s a little more to it than that, but basically, yes,” he says dryly.

They storm the central building with the children. Booker takes as many shots for Julie as he can, but she still gets hit. He supports her as she gasps for breath and keeps limping forward, and they quickly get behind cover in the building. The children are all huddled in the center of the room. Andy and Nile convince the children to follow them out, and they’re moving again, this time with no fire. “Quickly,” Andy hisses, “Before reinforcements arrive.”

They get the children out and into the bus that Copley has commandeered for them. Once they are back in the town, they let the children out again to meet with the authorities. As the children see they are no longer in danger, they begin to hug each other.

“We really did it,” Julie says from where she stands with Booker, watching Andy tell a police officer where the children came from. Julie turns and hugs Booker, who freezes. She doesn’t stop hugging him though, so he slowly hugs her back.

“Yes,” he says.

She steps back and grins at him. “They can go back to their families now.”

“Yes,” he says again. He is a little speechless.

“That’s good.” She walks over to stand with the children, and Nicky gives Booker an amused look. Booker rolls his eyes.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker takes on a new role, and a more familiar one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a conversation isn’t the end of the world, Booker.

Once the mission is over, and the children have been reunited with their families, the team reconvenes back at the safe house they’ve been staying in to plan. Booker sits with a sigh down into a worn armchair, and Joe sits on the sofa next to him. “You were good, back there,” Joe says.

“Was I?” Booker asks.

“You stopped them from interrogating Andy,” Joe says.

“Nile stopped them.”

“You started it.” Joe falls into silence, and they rest, letting the adrenaline after the mission wear off. Nicky soon joins Joe on the sofa, and Joe hooks an arm around Nicky’s shoulders.

“All’s well that ends well,” Nicky says, and he offers Joe and Booker beers. They accept, and they drink together. Andy and Nile are going through their weaponry and equipment, deciding what to sell and what to keep, while Julie keeps an accounting with a clipboard. Copley is at work on the computer, erasing all trace of their activity.

“You like each other,” Nicky says to Booker.

“What?” Booker asks, but he knows what Nicky is saying. Nicky just gives him a look.

“Perhaps you won’t have to know what it is to be alone, anymore,” Nicky says. “Perhaps you are meant for each other, as I was meant for Joe.”

Joe smiles at Nicky. “Perhaps you are the hopeless romantic,” he says, and Nicky grins.

Booker gets to his feet and joins Andy and Nile in taking stock of their belongings. Julie smiles at him, and he looks intently down at the cartridges of shells he’s holding. He doesn’t look back up for a long time.

Once their belongings are sorted, the team makes plans to split up. “Julie needs to keep training,” Nile says.

“Booker can train her,” Nicky says with a twinkle in his eyes. “It can be his new punishment.”

“Can you?” Andy asks Booker.

Booker shrugs as all eyes turn to him. He looks at Julie, who looks back at him. If he says no, what will she think? “I suppose,” he says.

“That’s settled then,” Andy says. They go to the regional airport, and each peel off to catch their separate flights until it is just Julie and Booker left, standing in front of the welcome desk.

“Where do you want to go?” Julie asks Booker.

Booker chooses France. He wants someplace familiar, someplace he can do well for her, and despite all his years, his native country still comes more easily to him.

They fly into Paris. Julie wants to take a few days to take in the sights, so they do. Booker mostly follows her through various palaces and museums, answering her questions about the old days, and he is surprised to find his memories sting less when he shares them with her. It is as if she is helping him to find joy in his old life, once again. He doesn’t mind thinking for her of how the old buildings looked back when they were new, or newer, and how he felt, walking the streets of Paris as a young man just receiving orders.

After Julie has taken in her fill of the sights, they catch a train to a country village they choose at random from the map. They disembark the train onto a platform surrounded by a field of flowers. They stay at the inn in town until they find a little house on the outskirts to rent.

People give them curious looks, but Booker says little when shopkeepers ask them about themselves. Julie smiles and waves to the people they see often enough when they go into town to get supplies, but Booker is the one who speaks French. He is the one who must talk.

When the butcher asks if they are newlyweds just starting out for themselves, Booker remains silent on the subject, instead choosing to point out the meat. From that moment on, it seems the village sees them as a married couple, though Booker doesn’t give out their last names. He does think up separate last names for him and Julie, and shares them with her, just in case. He puts together papers that will pass a rudimentary inspection, again on the off chance someone might snoop. He doesn’t specify their make-believe marital status. He concedes to himself that it would be easier to just be a married couple, but he doesn’t want to bring it up.

After two weeks of settling in, Booker steels himself and goes to Julie. He can’t let it go any longer. He finds her washing her dishes in the sink. She turns and wipes her hands clean when he clears his throat, and she waits for him to speak.

“You need hand to hand training,” he says. He’s been helping her improve her shooting, but she needs to learn close range fighting, too.

“Okay.” Julie sets her towel down on the counter. “Do you want to start now?”

“Now is as good a time as any,” Booker says, resigned, and he follows her out into the backyard. They start off slow, trading loose punches, and Booker corrects her form as issues come up, but soon the fighting gets to close quarters.

It’s not long before Julie trips over her own feet and falls into Booker, who catches her and sets her upright. He is almost hugging her, and she looks up at him with wide eyes. He takes a step back. “You need to watch your footing. Stay rooted to the ground,” he says.

“Right.” Julie nods and tries again. Her footing is still bad.

“Stop, stop,” Booker says. He leans down and holds her shin, moving her foot so that it’s hip distance apart from the other one. “Bend your knees a little.”

“It feels weird,” Julie says.

Booker tries to think back to when he first learned to fight, but he doesn’t remember it feeling odd to him. He had gotten into scrapes even when he was a child, and his balance and footing came naturally to him. “It will feel weird until you practice at it,” he says regardless, because it’s probably true. “Now come at me again.”

She attacks, and he soon has her in a chokehold, her back pressed against his front. He holds her there for barely a moment, so that her mistake can register with her, before gently releasing her. “You’re telegraphing your movements. Again.”

They keep at it until Julie begins to find a rhythm, and then for a few precious moments it is almost as if they are dancing together, going through the steps of a pre-choreographed exchange. Julie executes it flawlessly, and Booker calls a stop to practice. 

“Well done.” He smiles faintly at her, and she grins back at him, her eyes shining.

“I kind of got the hang of it, there,” she says, almost humming with positive energy.

“You did,” Booker agrees. They walk back into the house, and Booker pours her and himself cold glasses of water. He can still feel her pressed up against him, and he leans against the counter and stares down at his water. She sits at the table opposite him.

“Will we try again tomorrow?” Julie asks hopefully.

“Yes,” Booker says, resigned to his fate. After a break, they reconvene outside for shooting practice, and then it’s time to get supplies from the village. Booker goes this time, it’s his turn. He walks through the field of flowers, past the train station, and into the center of the town where the market sits, trading nods with those who greet him.

“Ah, Monsieur Booker, welcome,” says the grocery store clerk as he walks in. He nods his welcome and picks out what they will need for the week. He makes sure to get chocolate for Julie. He’s noticed she likes to treat herself to it, after a particularly hard day. It’s like Andy, with her baklava. As he’s checking out, the clerk gives him a speculative glance. “Madame Julie is doing well?”

“Yes,” Booker murmurs. He digs into his pocket for his wallet.

“You are a good husband, to be doing the shopping,” the clerk says with a smile.

Booker blinks. “Ah…” he trails off. Has Julie been getting comments about him as her husband, too, he wonders. Her French has been getting better, good enough that she has a grasp of the basics. She would probably understand if they were commenting. How has she been handling it? He will have to ask her. He offers the clerk the requisite money and accepts the bag of groceries.

“Have a good day,” the clerk says.

“You, too,” Booker replies. The walk back to the house is a slow, reluctant one. The responsible thing is to bring it up as soon as possible, so that nobody gets caught in a lie. Booker does not want to be responsible.

Julie greets him happily and takes the groceries from him, and he lingers in the kitchen as she begins to put them away. She has instituted a system for the kitchen, and he does his best not to get in the way of it. “The clerk said something to me, today,” Booker says.

“Oh?” Julie pulls her head out of the refrigerator.

“He called me your husband.”

“Oh.” Julie sticks her head back into the fridge. “Yes, the baker said much the same thing a couple days ago.”

Booker taps his fingers on the counter. “Do you want to be my wife?” He clears his throat. “Fake wife, that is?”

Julie moves something inside the fridge with a clanking noise. “It would make life simpler, I guess,” she says.

Booker thinks about that. She’s probably right. “Okay.”

“Cool,” Julie says. She bends down to pick up a package of pasta.

Booker retreats from the room to sit out on the back porch. He wonders if he should feel like he’s betraying his actual past wife’s memory, but he doesn’t. It seems that wound has healed over some, since the last time he looked for it. He stares up at the sky and marvels that he is able to heal in this hidden way. He feels like a child, prodding with his tongue at a space where a baby tooth fell out, only to feel no pain. He stays out there and watches the sun set, and then he watches the stars, changing only in their routine course across the sky, different but still the same, all at once.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new person comes to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Booker, you’re being too chivalrous.

Julie gets better at hand to hand as the weeks go by until the day comes that she is able to land a real blow against Booker. He steps back with a grunt, and she is immediately apologetic.

“Are you ok? Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she says, hands hovering over his side where she hit him.

“Why are you sorry?” Booker grins. “That was a great punch.”

Julie smiles reluctantly. “As long as you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.” Booker steps forward, fists raised. “Again.”

She starts landing blows more often after that, often enough that he shows her how to pull them. He starts teaching her more complicated maneuvers, and she struggles but begins to succeed after a great deal of effort. He feels proud of her, watching her work so hard to achieve mastery, and he is also, somewhat to his surprise, proud of himself for helping her get there.

They get more and more used to being in each other’s space, until every day feels like a dance between their bodies. They move gracefully around each other at mealtimes in the kitchen, they negotiate doorways with ease, and they trade blows in synchrony. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable moving her arm or leg to correct her anymore, and she doesn’t seem abashed by it. When their hands touch as he gives her the sniper rifle or handgun, they don’t shrink back or avoid each other’s glance. They just go ahead and start shooting at the targets.

Booker finds himself smiling more and more helplessly at Julie’s optimism and bubbly humor, and Julie relaxes into joking with him more easily as days go by. Julie falls quiet sometimes, too, though, and it is never an uncomfortable silence between them when they sit side by side, companionably watching the sun set after a day of work, or watching the sun rise with bleary eyes as they wake to the world.

Booker catches himself getting lost in looking at her, watching the stride of her legs as she walks into the room, noticing the grace of her hands as she cuts a baguette, relishing the crinkle around her eyes when she grins. He knows he is falling in love with her, he recognizes the signs, though it has been a long time, and he is surprised he can still feel this way. When he walks to and from the town, he contemplates the flowers and considers how she might react if he gave her some. His courage fails him, though, each time he thinks of it.

As summer fades, a new woman moves into town, and the villagers are abuzz with gossip. She is wealthy, they say, and important somehow, though they don’t say how. Booker doesn’t notice much as he goes through his chores in town, until he has to stop walking to avoid running into a woman in the street.

“Hello,” the woman says. She is richly dressed, and her eyes are sharp as tacks.

“Good afternoon,” Booker replies.

“I’m new to the village. Mademoiselle Ventrice,” she announces grandly and holds out her hand. Booker shakes it.

“Booker.”

“I am in need of some assistance. Could you show me the way to the post office? I need to pick up some luggage.”

Booker looks longingly at the butcher, where he was supposed to go next. “All right.”

“Excellent.” She loops her arm through his, and he leads her where she needs to go. This sets a precedent, as she always seems to be in town when he is, and she always seems to need a favor when she sees him.

One day, Julie runs up to him as he is halfway to town. “Booker!” She calls. He turns and waits for her to catch up. “We’re out of milk. I forgot to remind you, so I thought I’d just come along for the shopping today.”

Booker smiles. “I know we’re out of milk, but you’re welcome to join me anyway.”

“All right,” Julie says.

As soon as they get into town, it happens again. “Monsieur Booker!” Booker hears. He and Julie look around. Mademoiselle Ventrice walks up to them. “Who’s this?” She glances imperiously at Julie.

“Ah, this is Julie. Julie, Mademoiselle Ventrice,” Booker motions to the lady.

“Good to meet you,” Julie says slowly.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” Mademoiselle Ventrice says with a sniff. “Monsieur Booker, if you could…” and then she rattles on, this time with a request to help her pick out the best wine. Booker and Julie walk her to the town liquor store and help her make her choice, and then they set off again for the market. Julie is quiet through the shopping excursion, and she doesn’t say much to the clerk, though she would usually be bubbling over with greetings and observations about the day.

When they begin to walk home, Julie looks at Booker. “She was flirting with you.”

Booker sighs. “Yes.”

“You know, if you wanted…” Julie looks at the path ahead. “We don’t have to be married,” she blurts out.

Booker blinks at her, but she isn’t looking at him. She starts walking faster. “I’ll meet you at home, okay?”

“Okay.” Booker watches her rush off with a bemused stare. Could it be, he wonders, that she has feelings for him as well? He switches the bag of groceries from one hand to the other and slowly walks along the path. He didn’t think she would, what with her having known him at one of his lowest points. He couldn’t think of any way she would find him appealing, but maybe she had, against all odds.

He reaches the field of flowers. There are still a few wildflowers blooming, though fall is fast approaching. He stops and looks over the field. As if in a dream, he reaches out and plucks one from the ground, then another, and then another until he has a bouquet gathered in his hands. Numbly, he carries it and the groceries back to the house. Julie isn’t inside. He leaves the groceries on the counter and goes to the backyard, where Julie is standing, her back turned toward him.

“I meant it, you know,” she says. “If you want, you know, it’s fine, you just have to tell me and -”

“Julie,” Booker interrupts her and places a hand on her elbow. She turns toward him, and he holds out the flowers. “For you.”

Julie stares at the flowers. “For me?” She asks hesitantly. She takes the flowers from him, and her fingertips brush against his hand. She sniffs the flowers, and a hesitant smile blossoms across her face.

Booker reaches out and tips her chin up so that she is looking at him. He leans forward. Just as if they are in a dance, Julie leans forward too, and they meet in the middle in a kiss that he feels from the soles of his feet to the crown of his skull. They break apart, and Booker looks down at Julie. She smiles up at him, and he feels himself slowly start to grin. His heart lifts. “For you,” he murmurs, and he kisses her again.


End file.
